


In The Dead Of Night

by VenetaPsi



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Creepy Fluff, Creepypasta, Fluff and Angst, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 22:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15616281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenetaPsi/pseuds/VenetaPsi
Summary: Stars speckled the inky and overcast sky as a beat up and janky SUV rumbled over the cracked asphalt of Brewer Avenue in the very early hours of the morning.Evan Fong listened to the squeaks and gasps of the dying vehicle's engine, cringing instinctively at the noise.





	In The Dead Of Night

Stars speckled the inky and overcast sky as a beat up and janky SUV rumbled over the cracked asphalt of Brewer Avenue in the very early hours of the morning. 

Evan Fong listened to the squeaks and gasps of the dying vehicle's engine, cringing instinctively at the noise; it sounded too much like the nails of a teacher with pneumonia sliding down a chalkboard. 

Out his half opened bedroom window that leaked in cool but stale late night summer air, Evan watched the headlights illuminate the shadowed houses and trees lining the road. Soon the light slipped away along with the disruptive sound, leaving the faint sound of scattered city traffic and whistling wind the only distraction from the pounding throbbing in his head and the oppressive shadows of the darkened bedroom. 

For not the first time that night, Evan tilted his head to read the sharp red numbers on the bedside clock, angrily informing him that it was still nearing 1:45 in the morning and that the Canadian hadn't slept a wink. His fingers rubbed his eyes out of habit but they were dry with lack of sleep and even pushing down harder didn't distract him for the painful headache that had been festering inside of him for weeks now. It never seemed to fade. He tossed and turned for another ten minutes, the sheets damp with perspiration before finally he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet resting on carpeted floor. His fingers ran anxiously, even roughly through his black hair and he rose to his feet, pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed for another solid minute.

Finally he gave up and turned, twisting the knob to his door and walking out into the hallway. He moved instinctively through the darkened house, moving with fingers and faint moonlight down the stairs and across the ground floor of the house. Finally he reached his boyfriend’s door, closed and with no sound on the other side. His hand closed around the handle and he pulled down, but the movement halted roughly. He tugged the unyielding handle dumbly for a few seconds before letting go with a chastising shake of his head. In his insomniac's exhaustion he'd forgotten about this. He always kept his door locked at night. Paranoia that Evan didn't quite understand. 

It took him only a minute to locate the key, hidden in a small box on a nearby shelf, where he always kept it. Then Evan let himself into the room, opening the door softly as to not make it creak. A smile formed on his lips for the first time that entire night as Evan's gaze fell upon the man sprawled across the bed. 

He always remembered Jonathan Smith's features perfectly, his pale skin and raven colored hair. His blue eyes that always seemed perpetually sleepy and the beautiful ink that decorated both of his arms, contrasted perfectly by the small studs in his ears. The straight edges and slight curves his body made. The fact that he was taller then Evan himself. Moving with soft footsteps, Evan settled on the bed beside Jon, fingers unconsciously reaching to brush hair behind his ear. 

“You don't know how hard it is, you know…” He spoke aloud, eyes never straying from the male who'd already done wonders for Evan's aching head. “I can't sleep. When I don't sleep, I think. When I think, it starts to hurt.” 

A deep, resonating longing rose up in Evan's chest, threatening to drown him. “But you make it all better. You always have.” His fingers lightly brushed Jonathan's cheek, and a soft smile donned the Canadian’s lips. “I love you for that. I'll never stop loving you.” Fondness threatened to overflow inside of Evan, too strong for such a lack of energy, so he resorted to teasing, something that always made Jonathan smile or laugh. Oh his laugh. “It's starting to smell in here you know. I really ought to do something about that.”

He rose to head back to his own room, heart lighter and head considerably down lower on his list of thoughts. Before he left he leaned down, leaving a soft, gentle peck on the man's slightly parted lips. 

Then he turned and headed back towards the living room, not forgetting to lock the door behind him and rehide the key. For the first time in days Evan felt both the want and the need to sleep settle soundly on his shoulders, weighted and dragging him down. He stumbled up the stairs to his own bed, collapsing unceremoniously down on the pillow. 

The blacket slept soundly all the way through sunrise.

 

Evan sat on the kitchen counter, legs swinging absentmindedly a foot or so off the ground as he scrolled through youtube on his phone. It was a guilty pleasure he had, watching old videos. But recently he felt sick when he looked at the site, a deep rolling wave of nausea that caused him to quickly turn the screen black again. He sighed, letting the device fall out of his hand onto the countertop as he glanced around, hands once again running deep ridges through his hair. 

Out the kitchen window he could see his fenced in backyard, the perimeter shrouded in overgrown plants and vines that left a twisted, almost jungle-esc feeling. Two large maple trees shaded the majority of the uncut grass, and a small, burgundy colored squirrel ran gracefully across the fence top and up the tree trunk to its little nest, nestled in the high leaves and twigs.

He smiled softly when his gaze fell upon Jonathan, sitting on the raggedy porch swing that had held strong for years longer than its time. The male was leaned back in the seat, head angled slightly up towards the sky, one leg stretched out across the swing and the other touching the hardwood of the porch floor. 

It had been an absolute pain in his ass for Evan to get him out there. But in the end, he felt proud and satisfied. Jonathan really did spend too much time cooped up in his room. There was no way that was healthy.  
He’d always admired the calm side of Jon, craved it even. How serious and patient he could be when he just listened to Evan rant or simply sat with him in a call after something in a recording session had set Evan off. It had been a long time since either of those situations had happened and admittedly, Evan missed it. So seeing his boyfriend so calm was a gentle reminder of that. 

A faint rumbling cut through his thoughts and he glanced up at the sky, spotting the dark clouds in the distance that were drifting closer and closer. It was going to storm, Evan was starting to be able to smell the rain in the air. He closed the window behind him and hopped off the counter before heading towards the backdoor. He should get Jonathan back inside before it started to rain. 

 

Late that night, as thunder shook the house and rain poured down by the bucketful outside, Evan perched on the edge of Jonathan’s bed. He held his guitar in his hands, the cord connecting to the the amplifier twisted around his leg as it tumbled to the floor. He idally picked at the strings, making short tunes and cords that carried no real melody, but that drifted into one another. In fact to Evan, it sounded slightly erie, disjointed and unharmonious, but smooth and carrying. However, Jon hadn’t issued any complaint about the playing style, so Evan continued, mindlessly strumming as his mind wandered. He remembered the first time he’d shown Jonathan his music, right before he’d officially started his _Rynx_ channel. He’d shown Jon the remix he’d created and he vividly recalled sitting in anxious silence as Jon listened to the audio file Evan had sent him. The male’s opinion was the dealbreaker in Evan’s mind, to if he was even cut out to make music, let alone post it. Had Jon not liked it no one would have ever even known the piece existed. 

But Jon had loved it, had been impressed and proud of Evan and the Canadian had never felt so in love, so infatuated with another person before. Now his heart burned at the memory, a good, strong burning sensation and he grinned unconsciously once more. His eyes settled on Jon, laying across Evan’s legs and a terrible pain rose up in Evan’s chest, sharp contrast to the powerful love of a few seconds ago. Thank god he’d gotten Jonathan out of that horrible relationship he was with in with that other boy in time. Who knows what could have happened. 

He carefully set the electric guitar down and began to run his fingers through Jon’s hair, a habit that had started one of the first times the two had met in person. 

“You need to take a shower,” He murmured teasingly, the light hearted banter flowing easily as he smiled down at his boyfriend. “Your hair is all greasy.” Evan’s hand came back slightly damp and he rubbed in on the thigh of his pant leg, unconcerned. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to Jon’s forehead, pulling back slowly and staring lovingly down at the man. 

“I love you. You know that?” Evan didn’t need an answer. He already knew it. Of course Jon knew. He always had. “You get sleep you crazy clown.” He jested affectionately and slid Jon to rest on the bed rather than his lap before slowly rising to his feet and collecting his instrument. He paused right before he left the room, glancing one final time at the male, relishing the souring feeling in his chest before he gently pulled the door shut, locking it out of respectful habit. 

Evan set his instrument down by his computer desk in the sitting room and moved to head upstairs. Before he got there however, he wrinkled his nose slightly, moving to crack one of the kitchen windows, despite the rain. The smell was really getting unbearable. 

Finally, he headed up the stairs towards his own bed, leaving the terrible scent to waft out the window and disperse in the summer air. He frowned down at his now stained pants and hung them carelessly over the edge of his bathtub before crawling into bed, his thoughts of Jonathan lulling him into sleep he so desperately needed. 

It was weeks before Luke Patterson was able to convince an investigation to start over the disappearance of his brother. Weeks before a neighbour of Evan’s ever complained about the smell of rot and spoiled meat that grew stronger every day, or when a visiting friend found the pants in the upstairs bathroom, the bloody smear still on the upper thigh. Longer still before police broke open the locked room on the first floor to find the decomposing corpse of a shot Jonathan Smith, still and grey and cold, cared for and looked after like a sick child. It was months before the body of Jonathan’s first boyfriend was found, shot through the heart and dumped in the river. Months before the internet found out that H2ODelirious was dead, and that VanossGaming would never make another Youtube video. 

Months for their fellow Youtubers to realize just how sick of a person they’d been friends with.

But Evan just loved him. And there’s nothing wrong with love, right?


End file.
